


Stockholm

by allonsymckenzie



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Kidnapping, M/M, This will never be an OT6, Violence, implied Mavin at this point, this has been a psa, this is not an OT6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsymckenzie/pseuds/allonsymckenzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stock·holm syn·drome; noun: feelings of trust or affection felt in certain cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim toward a captor.</p><p>[Updates when I have free time; be prepared to wait. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first project since (the mildly successful) This Love Was Out of Control, so it’s been...9 ish months since I’ve put even the slightest bit of effort to a story. Forgive me if chapters take a while to update; full time nursing student here.

_Just fucking take it already, dude_ , Ray thought while watching the bearded man contemplating the XXL spicy burrito. _Take the fucking burrito and go fuck yourself with it._

Ray had been watching the thrilling saga between one man and his burrito choice for 20 minutes, not even exaggerating. It was a slow day at the 24-7 on Strawberry, and even though he couldn’t say anything to the customers out loud, cursing them out inside his own head was his form of stress relief.

As he watched the man radiate the pile of meat and flour to a luke warm mess, he briefly contemplated what exactly lead him to this spot in life. Being 25, Ray hadn’t gone to college, having only completed a GED. His home life before moving on his own was non existent; father ran off before he could even say the word “daddy”, mother fought terminal lung cancer during his mid teens, but lost. She wasn’t even the most stable figure in his life, anyway. She’d always drop him off at various friends’ apartments, insisting she’ll be back the next day. Eventually Ray got old enough that he’d just do her the favor of occupying himself elsewhere when she’d have these flighty spells.

When she got sick, of course Ray was hurt. He did the usual cursing of God and questioning of everything. But as the illness took away all that he knew of his mother, and as her eyes became more distant, her memory slipping as the cancer ate away her brain, he began to curse her. Every shrug and pull she’d make of his hand, insisting she didn’t know him, in his mind would only lay another brick between them in the ever growing wall he’d been building.

And so when the time came that he was left alone, his mother long gone, Ray scrounged for jobs, worked for under the table pay as a dishwasher for $3/shift plus whatever the waitresses didn’t take out of the tip jar, which was usually small pocket change.

Of all the havens in the world, this little convenience store was his. He’d spend off time playing the Street Fighter arcade game in the back, chatting with the store owners, Sujan and Sunita, about random events of the neighborhood. He’d spend nearly every waking moment at that store, trying not to face the reality that was the dingy apartment he once shared with his now passed mother.

“Yo, dude.” Ray was startled back to the present by a jab in the shoulder from Burrito Man.

“Can I help you?” he asked, shaking his head slightly as he came back to earth.

“How much I owe ya?” He asked in between bites, the overwhelming stench of unidentifiable meat and spice invaded Ray’s nostrils as he tried to quickly ring the man up. The man, Beardo as Ray lovingly referred to him in his own mind, always wore a hawaiian shirt, to Ray’s assumption being that’s all he could fit into.

“$4.65.” currency was exchanged as Ray politely told the man to have a good day. _You fat fuck._

He only fell into this job because Sujan had placed the sign in the window when Ray walked in one day before work. A quick interview and then he could officially earn an “honest” living.

That was 7 years ago, and Ray never thought he’d still be here. He fucking hated this place. His hands brushed under the counter, touching the banged up 20 gauge that Sujan insists is just for show, “fight fire with fire in this neighborhood, my boy.” he explained on Ray’s first day. “Don’t show it unless you need to.”

“Does it even work?”

Sujan laughed heartily. “The thing’s been jammed for years. Can’t even crack the poor thing open to get the shells out. But don’t worry; i’ve dropped the thing too many times over the years and never had a thing happen. All you need is to hold it like this-” he held the weapon out toward the back of the store, a stone cold look on his face-” and you’ll scare the piss out of any punk that’ll try anything.”

Ray shrugged off the “robbery management” training, figuring that since he only worked the day shifts, he shouldn’t have to worry about it so much. What he worried about at present was the lingering stench of that burrito.

“I don’t even see how anyone can eat one of those disgusting things.” He sighed as he sprayed the nearly empty can of Febreze, hoping for some sort of relief.

Ray inhaled sharply and grimaced. “Rain meadow burrito. That’s a sexy smell.”

Every day was about the same as the last. The same type of people would pour in and out of the convenience store, buying their alcohol and tobacco and lottery. Maybe he’d get a more lively day and have a kid try and pass a fake ID, but hell, he carried one when he was their age, and he’d bust them in an instant.

The evening of February 18th was when it all kicked off.

Ray had been moved to the evening shift, as once again someone called off and needing as many hours as he could take, Ray accepted. “What else am I doing, anyway?” He laughed to Sujan on the phone.

As it turned out, he’d rather blow his brains out than sit here with no one coming in. Not a damn soul. The lows in the city had dipped into the low fifties, which sent most of the population indoors and away from the chilled wind. Which was bad for business, and bad for a very bored Ray.

After cleaning the shelves off, he thought he’d get a round in on Street Fighter, just to pass the time, when the door chime sounded.

“Welcome.” Ray shouted from the rear, zero enthusiasm.

“Evening, sir.” the man called back. Ray’s brows immediately furrowed at the accent.

“That’s a new one.” he said. “Don’t get a lot of British people around here.”

The man laughed, still hidden from Ray behind the shelves of the aisles. “Yeah, I’m fairly new to the area. Moved for, um...school. Yeah.”

Ray quit the game and took his position behind the counter. He gave the man a once-over: blonde haired, aviators on top of his head, blue button down and jeans. Not the typical type for the area. “UCLS?”

“Um, yeah, the big one.” the man said, eyes shifting. “Going for uh...filmmaking.”

“Ah, yeah” Ray nodded. “Sounds promising.” He clapped his hands together. “So, what can I do for ya?”

“Well...I’m not entirely sure just yet. Mind if I have a look about?” the brit scratched his head and looked around.

“Yeah, sure, don’t worry about it. I’m here if you need me.” Ray ducked under the

counter and reached for a carton of Newports he’d been meaning to stock anyway, and bumped into the shotgun, knocking it on the floor outside the counter.

“Fuck, sorry about that. Such a fucking clutz.” Ray laughed and collected the weapon before the man had a good look at it. The man stared for a moment before walking down to the end of the last aisle, looking at the beer. His hand was pressed up against his left ear, and that caught Ray’s attention.

The door chime rang again and Beardo came in, eyeing Ray before a nod of his head. “Sup, man?”

“I’m out of beef and cheese today, dude.” Ray said, barely glancing at the man.

“Ah, I’m not here for that anyway. But thanks, appreciate it.” He waved slightly before joining the British man down the last aisle. Ray watched as they exchanged words, and grabbed the shotgun from where he’d collected it, an uneasy feeling pooling in his stomach. Beardo never talked to anyone else, so why the fuck was he talking to this odd British twink?

“Looking for something in particular?” He called out, to no response. Ray pursed his lips and sighed, taking a glance outside and seeing nothing to alleviate his growing fear.  Cops never come through at this time of day. They know better.

“Seriously, guys, anything you need?” he asked, more guarded than before, and stepped from around the counter. He was met with the Brit’s gaze, and no Beardo. Confused, he stepped forward and was quickly grabbed from behind, his mouth covered by a hand. Beardo’s a slick man for a big guy Ray thought.

“How the-” he muffled before his head was yanked back by the hair, coaxing a hiss of pain as he watched the Brit slip around him and behind the counter, hitting the cash button and pulling out the money.

“Jack, the deposit’s been taken I think.” He said.

“Gav, you fucking dumbass, that’s in the fucking safe.” Jack rolled his eyes and hoisted Ray back into his normal spot, shoving him toward Gavin. “Open it!”

Ray immediately held his hands up, not wanting any trouble. “Okay, okay!” he got down on his knees at the lock of the floor safe.

Jack reached over him to the busted shotgun, pulling it away from Ray’s reach, “Before you get any bright ideas, buddy.”

Gavin held a bag open in front of Ray, expecting the money. “Just drop it in and we’ll be on our way, mate.” Ray looked at the Brit’s face and thought how easy this will be, to just give in and give up the money. Let these two have it and go on with life.

But then all he could see was Sujan and Sunita. They’ve been running that same 24-7 for 30 years, and were no closer to being able to retire than when they started. Everything in this safe was insurance they’d be sleeping with a roof over their head, just like Ray’s own savings back home. If they lost this, it would kill them, and after all they’d done for him, he couldn’t stand to let that happen.

Ray reached into the floor safe, the door keeping him out of Gavin’s sight, and his torso keeping Jack from seeing what he was doing. He reached into the deposit box and pulled the knife he’d stuck there, taped to the top, after the “robbery management” training. It wasn’t the best around, but it was sharp enough to do a bit of damage. Thin, smooth, light, just enough to do quick and defensive damage. With this, he knew he had the upper-hand to their unarmed selves.

“Come on already!” Gavin yelled. Ray sat up instantly and plunged the knife into Gavin’s arm, the blood gushing instantly as he cried out and pulled his arm in, curling up onto the floor and cradling it.

Ray then heard the expected noise of Jack trying to fire the jammed shotgun, and took his confused silence as a chance to jab him in the side with the small blade. Jack went down with a roar, clutching his side as the blood ran between his fingers and down, while Gavin rolled on the ground, desperately clutching to the wound on his arm. “We’ve been hit! Bastard had a knife!” Gavin called out to seemingly no one.

“Fucking code red, Ryan!” Jack called. Confused, Ray backed up, clutching the bloodied knife and looking to the door.

“What the fuck are you guys...?” He asked, as Gavin’s rolling slowed and he slumped over.

“Gavin!” Jack called, his own breathing growing heavier, as he backed up against the cigarette display, and he too slumped over.

“Fuck fuck fuck” Ray chanted his own quiet mantra, looking back up to the door and seeing a car pull up to the curb. Adrenaline kicked in as Ray tried bolting for the exit in the back, making it just to the door when he heard a loud bang and felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg, taking him down instantly.

His face had met the cold tile floor as he watched the blade slip just out of his grasp. Scrambling for the blade, he then pushed himself upright and backed up against the doorway, watching a dark clothed man approaching him from the other end of the store. A dark mask, much like a human skeleton, covered his face, what bits of his eyes he could see were black as night. Ray gulped and clutched to the blade, knowing it’s his only form of defense.

“You’re a tough little bitch aren’t you?” the figure called out. “You’re lucky my friends aren’t dead. You don’t know how to cut to drain at least.” Ray looked past as two men, a curly headed one and an older one, carted a conscious Gavin and Jack out the door.

“Look, just take the money, leave me alone.” Ray said, watching the man walk ever closer. Seconds seem to take hours, as he felt helpless.

He looked at the blade once more, taking a deep breath and just thinking _Fuck it. YOLO I guess_ , he threw the blade, hitting the man square in the shoulder, making him falter in his steps.

Shocked in his own ability, Ray’s face fell slack. The shock was only shortlived as the man then seemed to take only a few short steps and hoisted him by his neck against the wall, blade still lodged in his arm.

“You little fucker, you’re gonna wish you never did that.” were the last words Ray remembered before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

The unpleasant air, humid and thick, brought Ray back to reality. His eyes, unfocused and heavy, tried to piece together the scene. In the few delirious seconds he had, he’d forgotten everything that happened and tried to move, but the sharp pain from his leg kept him from doing so. Alarmed, Ray shot up, fully awake, and looked around the room, expecting the store but finding far from it.

 

The room was not unlike an interrogation room; a lone table sat in the middle, and he sat cuffed to it. There were no mirrors or windows,  a single camera placed in the corner, watching every move. He looked up to the door, thick and plain, no light permeated through. The only light was the dim lamp hanging from the ceiling above the table.

 

“Hello?” Ray called. “Someone there?”

 

He pulled at the cuff, but it didn’t budge. 

 

“Can I go home? If you wanna know what happened I’ll tell you, I just want out of here.” He laid his head back on the table, waiting for an answer, and closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the now nagging pain. 

 

Gunfire, shouting, chaos. The man in the skull mask danced across his eyelids as he remembered all that had just happened.  How the fuck long ago was that ? He thought.  How the fuck long have I been here?

 

The door creaked open and two men walked in. Ray lifted his head up off the table, looking through the smudges of his glasses at them. 

 

“How’s it going, buddy?” one called out, his voice cracking at the end. “Feeling better yet?”

 

“What’s going on?” Ray asked, cutting through the bullshit.

 

“You’re gonna find out when you need to.” the other said, voice deeper than the first, but only slightly. 

 

“Okay, I’m not gonna play along with this good cop/bad cop bullshit. Just let me know what you need and let me go.”

 

The first man sighed, resting his arms on the table and coming into the light. He was rough, older than Ray in looks, tattoos for days up his arms and across his hands. His eyes looked tired, calm, like they’ve seen every future world war. His mustache was almost so perfectly curled it was comical.

 

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“What do you mean ‘not that simple’? It’s called “Charge me with something or let me the fuck go” man.” Ray’s voice raised, his glare at both the men cutting through the darkness. 

 

The older man began to laugh. “Oh that’s fucking cute. Michael, he thinks we’re cops.”

 

The scowl melted, confusion setting in. “What the fuck do you mean?” Ray asked.

 

Michael, the other man, laughed with his partner. “Dude, we’re the farthest fucking thing from cops. We’re better than cops.” the screech of a chair on tile pierced Ray’s ears, making him cringe, as Michael reached for the light switch and lighting up the room.

 

“We fucking run this town.”

 

Ray blinked at the bright light, and took in his surroundings. The dim light didn’t help to illuminate the dozens of maps and white boards across the room. He turned in his chair to read everything, and saw “24-7 Strawberry” on one board, pictures of Sujan and Sunita carrying the bank bag for deposit, and even pictures of himself, working days.

 

Ray went to speak, but couldn’t find his voice. He kept reading the board, “average take: 3-4 K. Highest on Friday evenings. Low security, low police presence.”

 

“Who are you guys?” he finally asked.

 

“That, Ray, is none of your business.” Michael said. “And yeah, I know your name. We  all know your name. We know everything about you.” Ray’s jaw went slack once again.

 

“Can you go see if Ryan’s back yet?” the older man asked.

 

“Yeah, sure, Geoff.” Michael said as he walked out.

 

Ray sighed as Geoff leaned back in his chair. “What do you want from me?”

 

“I can’t tell you. This wasn’t my idea to be frank.”

 

“ Can you at least take this fucking cuff off?”

 

Geoff shook his head, “Afraid not, buddy. I’m just here to keep you company. I’m not supposed to do shit until Ryan comes back.” Ray messed with the cuff, already leaving a red ring around his wrist. 

 

The door creaked open again, Gavin popping his head in. “Geoff, Ryan wants to talk.” The man looked to Ray, sitting slack in his chair, face blank. “Hey-o! You’re awake!” Ray didn’t say a word to him, just stared blankly at the map of Los Santos on the wall. Geoff nodded and slipped by Gavin through the door, Gavin propping it open with his body. “Oh you’re not gonna talk eh?”

 

Ray side eyed Gavin, scoffing. “Why the fuck should I? I don’t know who you are, where I am, why I’m here, and you fucks won’t tell me.”

 

Gavin laughed, “Ryan wants to be the one to tell you all of this.” he walked up to the table, laying his hands down on it and looking at Ray. “It’s a form of, venting, I guess you’d call it?”

 

“What is?”

 

Gavin smirked and walked away, “You’ll see.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ray called out, his question hanging in the air. He slammed his free fist on the table hard, the metal ringing just under his call of “ Fuck!”. 

 

* * *

 

“ Seriously, Ryan, I don’t understand why we’re holding him. He’s nobody. Some little pissant off the streets. He ain’t worth shit.” Geoff leaned up against the wall of the hallway. 

 

Ryan kept silent, cleaning the wound on his shoulder. The knife did some damage, a thin cut lay in between his collar and shoulder bone, just shallow enough he didn’t need stitches, but the fucker bled pretty good. 

 

“Just let the kid go. He doesn’t need to be sitting around here, I’m sure someone’s looking for him already.”

 

“I highly doubt that.” Ryan said blankly. “Like you said, he’s nobody, just a little pissant.” He finished applying the gauze and slipped his shirt back on, the cut outlining the drips of blood already saturating the bandage. “But do you see this? He threw this at me. A fucking little piece of shit knife, and he got that good of a shot? Kid’s got a talent I haven’t seen since..”

 

“You?” Geoff laughed. “You’re the only I’ve ever seen that can throw a knife with that much accuracy.”

 

“Exactly. This kid’s going somewhere, and I’m gonna be the one to take him there.”

 

“Ryan...” Geoff sighed. He’s the leader of this fucking gang, but he’ll admit he’s not the brains. Everyone respected him as the founder, but even he knew when to back off and let Ryan be Ryan. “Fuck it. Just don’t kill the fucker in the process.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Ray was sweating his ass off, they didn’t even have the decency of taking off his hoodie before propping him up in this room, and even though he’d managed to shrug it off, it lay bundled around his cuffed wrist, exaggerating the rub marks that the metal made. 

 

The door opened and Ray barely glanced up, expecting Michael or Geoff or maybe Gavin to come in. Instead, a blonde haired man, tall and fairly built, walked in. Ray could feel the air change, a chill running down his spine as their eyes locked. There was no mask this time; instead a painted face of red, black, and white stared him down. The mouth of the paint formed a long skeleton mouth, and the eyes were the same black he remembered from the hold up. 

 

The man stood at the door, closed and locked, and cracked his knuckles. Ray’s breath came heavy and painful in his chest, trying his best to peel his gaze away but having no luck in the fight. Ryan smirked.

 

“Welcome to the crew, bitch. You’re mine now.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Geoff sighed, sitting cross-armed on the sofa of the living area. The boys had on the night time news, their heist being the highlight.

 

“The 24-7 on Strawberry was robbed earlier this evening, with about $2,300 taken and thousands more in property damage.” said the reporter, the shattered glass front of the store in the background. “But the main concern is the whereabouts of this store’s only employee on duty.” 

 

Gavin smirked. “Why do I feel like such a celebrity when we make the news?”

 

Michael rolled his eyes, “It’s not like they’re like ‘Gavin Free, serial dumbass, broke into this store.’” Gavin punched the boy in the arm, Michael shoving back playfully.

 

“Guys, shut up, I wanna watch this.” Geoff mumbled. “Go suck each other’s dicks elsewhere.” as they returned their attention to the screen.

 

“Ray Narvaez is 25, slim build, about 5’6”-5’7”, and was last seen by store owner Sujan Patel approximately 5:45 this evening.” a picture of Ray, smiling with his arms crossed, flashed across the screen. 

 

“Security camera footage was lost at around 6:43,” a spokesperson for the LSPD reported, “And at that moment, only Narvaez was visible, as seen here. “ The camera cut to the surveillance footage, showing Ray playing the Street Fighter game in the back. “Our belief is that the criminals managed to tap into the closed circuit and break it somehow.”

 

“Hacking’s not that hard, dumbass.” Michael called out.

 

The camera came back to the reporter. “Anyone with any information on this robbery or the whereabouts of Ray Narvaez are urged to contact the LSPD. From South Los Santos, I’m Joel Luna.” Geoff turned off the TV at that.

 

“Well great.” he sighed. “Not just any other fucking robbery. Not just a simple ‘sharpen our skills’ heist. Ryan had to fucking kidnap the poor kid.”

 

“Poor kid?” Jack spoke up, sitting down in the chair opposite Geoff. “Do you not see what he fucking did to me? To Gavin? Fuck, the knife he got  Ryan with?”

 

“Still doesn’t justify taking the kid.” Geoff shrugged. “To be honest, I’d have just killed the son of a bitch.”

 

“Wonder what Ryan’s doing in there.” Gavin mumbled.

 

 

* * *

 

Ray landed headfirst onto the floor with a hard smack. He struggled to his feet, his weakened leg bent to lessen the pain. “Fuck, man please-” he begged to no avail, Ryan landing another punch upside his head.

 

“This is for the fucking damage you did to us.” Ryan said, even tempered, standing over the once again fallen Ray. “I have two fucking men out now. Two! You know how hard it is to cause the kinda chaos we do in this town with only three men?” He kicked Ray square in the gut, knocking the wind and a cry of pain from the man. “Pretty fucking hard.”

 

Ray clutched his gut, the pain everywhere making it too hard for him to easily focus. “Please...please just stop.”

 

“Oh I can stop,” said Ryan, “But it’s not over.” the laugh that followed was guttural, primal, sending a chill down Ray’s spine. 

 

“What the...” Ray said, gasping for air as he sat up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You knocked out two of my men, you’re gonna replace them.” 

 

Ray’s face was blank, slightly winced from the pain, as he looked up to the man. “what do you fucking mean?”

 

“Until Gavin and Jack are healed, you’re gonna do all their work for me, and for the crew.” 

 

“And when they’re healed?”

 

Ryan squatted down to Ray’s eye level, his eyes narrow, betraying no emotion. “You’re free. Simple as that.”

 

“And what kinda work does this entail?”

 

“Whatever I want. Whatever they want. You’re my bitch, and by default, the entire crew’s.” He stood up and hauled Ray up with him by the back of his t-shirt. “So, I think the first thing we need is a proper introduction.” He shoved Ray toward the door, Ray faltering in his steps as the pain from his leg shot through the nerves like a bolt of lightning. 

 

“Fuck!” he cried out. “You know, your fucking gunshot isn’t helping.”

 

“You're not the only one with decent fucking aim, Ray.” 

 

“Touche.” Ray almost laughed, but Ryan pushed him ahead, unlocking the door and heading down the hall. 

 

For Ray to be impressed would be an understatement. Though the room he’d been in was a little decrepit, the rest of the building was not. Everything had that raw, industrial feel, clearly having been some sort of factory in a past life. But it didn’t feel dirty or grimy at all. It was modern, with art and open shelves full of books all along the walls, and the floors were laid with hardwood deftly hiding its age.

 

Ryan led him into the living area, where the rest of the crew were still sitting. Ray recognized Gavin and Jack right off; Gavin’s arm bandaged with gauze, blood bleeding through in the center, and Jack bracing his side while he sat. The other two ( Geoff? I think?)  he remembered from the initial interrogation, back when he thought (and now wished) was a simple police questioning.

 

“Everyone,” Ryan began, watching the crew turn to face them, “I’m sure you remember our buddy Ray here. Well, he’s gonna be staying with us a while.”

 

Michael laughed to himself, Gavin smirking and Jack mirroring the look of seriousness Geoff wore. “Hey, man.” Geoff said, voice blank.

 

Ray looked around nervously, not taking any of these guys for fools any longer. “Hey,” he said weakly.

 

“Don’t hesitate to ask him for any help.” Ryan said, “That’s what he’s here for.”

 

“Can I punch him too, Ryan?” Michael asked with enthusiasm.

 

“No.” Ryan answered a little too quickly, enough to gain a few strange looks. “I mean, he’s gonna help, no sense in busting him up. He knows what’ll happen if he doesn’t.” Ray’s face scrunched slightly in confusion, thinking of course another round of roughing up, but then felt Ryan’s hand on the small of his back, his fingertips just ghosting along the groove.

 

Geoff rolled his eyes, standing up. “Okay whatever. I’m fucking tired so I’m calling it a night.” He walked past Ray, patting him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the fucking crew, I guess.”

 

Jack yawned, citing his need for sleep to help his injury. Michael and Gavin laid on the couch, Gavin’s head on Michael’s shoulder as Michael turned back on the TV and played Xbox.

 

“So, you all live here? Together?” Ray asked, sitting down in Jack’s chair. 

 

“Easier to keep tabs on everyone.” Ryan said. “And by the way, Michael, Gavin, he’s gonna need that couch.”

 

“I figured,” Michael mumbled, barely paying attention. He nudged the half asleep Brit next to him. “Gav, come on, we need to move.”

 

“But Michael..” he mumbled. “I don’t want any tonight.” The answer took Ray by surprise, but only got a slight laugh from Ryan and an eye roll from Michael. Michael managed to nudge Gavin up on his feet as he saved and closed out of the game. Gavin looked to Ray, as if he were sizing him up. Ray’s stomach did a backflip, knowing he’d probably pissed this man off just as much, if not worse, than he did Ryan. But Gavin simply held out his hand. “Cheers, Ray. Nice knife skills.” Confused, Ray took the boy’s hand in exchange.. Gavin looked over to Michael, mumbling something about bed, and the two disappeared.

 

Ray stood up, crossing modest living area over to the couch, and propped up his wounded leg, stretching out on the soft suede. 

 

“Get some rest,” Ryan said, walking up the stairs, “You’re gonna need it.”

 


	4. Temporary update, to be deleted.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an author's update.

Hi! I'm updating this way because I'm not sure how many people are following my tumblr. 

I'll keep it brief: within the past month, I had started getting panic attacks, with little warning and no explanation. Soon I found myself always tense and always worried. My grades started slipping and my depression came back tenfold. 

I got the help I needed last week, was diagnosed with general anxiety disorder, and I've been put on medicine to help me get back to my "normal" and back to being able to work and function. 

With any luck I'll have something new soon. Sorry for the wait.


	5. Temporary; will be deleted along with previous chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authors update

Hi! I know it's been about a year and a half since this story was updated, and I've gone through a lot of stuff since then. Recently, I have published a Fake AH Crew story under the Turnwood ship, and trading though my other stories, I saw some comments here that we're really encouraging and that everyone's still waiting. 

I just wanted to let everyone who is following this story still to know: I'm looking to get back into this one. This one was left on such a bad note lol. I cannot promise when this update will be at all. I don't have anything written. But I have an idea of where to take it, so I'll try it out. I'll keep everyone updated. Thank you all for the patience!


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